


Expectant Moments

by TheBeeThatHums



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Big Brother Sherlock Holmes, F/M, Fluff, Holmes!reader, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Pregnant!Reader, Protective John Watson, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sibling Love, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 03:03:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17438708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBeeThatHums/pseuds/TheBeeThatHums
Summary: You and John have been dating a while when something unexpecting (yet totally unsurprising) happens.Continuing to move my older works here!~Bee





	1. Chapter 1

The flat was quiet as you stared at the white porcelain of the toilet bowl, you were glad it was early enough that John was still sleeping and that Sherlock had been deep in thought all night and wasn’t about to notice you were up. Being sick sucked, you’d been hurling your guts out for three days now, but you didn’t want to worry either of them so you kept it to yourself. 

When you heard John in the hall, you pulled yourself up off the floor to rinse out your mouth, hoping that whatever bug or virus had decided to make your body its home was done torturing you for the time being. 

You swung the door open only to be face to face with John who frowned at you, “You look dreadful.” 

You rolled your eyes, sarcastically retorting, “Good morning to you too Watson,” as you pushed past him. 

John frowned at your back, you only ever called him Watson when something was wrong or you were angry. He doubted you were even aware that you did it but he’d learned to take it as a sign you weren’t yourself. It was something he was glad for as you, Kheiland (F/n) Holmes, at times behaved like what you were, a Holmes. Hiding your true feelings behind a blank mask.

Beginning to fret, he moved to follow you, “Are you feeling alright? You’ve been up early the past couple of days… are you not sleeping well again?” 

You sighed as you made your way to the kitchen, you should have known John would notice that he was suddenly waking up alone when he normally had to pry your sleeping self off him so he could get up. 

You began making yourself a cup of tea, pausing slightly as you decided to make one for Sherlock as well, “I’m fine John. I just decided to get a little bit of an early start is all, there are twice as many things to be done when we have a case.” 

It wasn’t actually a lie- you felt fine now and things did tend to get out of hand around the flat when you had a case like you did now. 

The fabric of your shirt tugged slightly as John wrapped his arms around you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. Smiling, you turned to nuzzle your nose into his cheek, giving it a quick kiss before turning back to the now whistling kettle. 

He let out a content sigh and decided to let it go since he noticed a rosy glow coming back to your cheeks, “Is there enough hot water for three?” 

You let out a soft tinkling laugh, “Of course love.” You were so in the habit that you always heated enough water for three even when you were alone. 

You poured all three cups, detaching John from your waist, and then left two to steep and took the other out to the living room, “Sit up and have some tea, Sherlock.”  

Your brother didn’t move so you leaned over and poked his cheek, “Come on now. You’ve been at it all night and I know you won’t eat, so, at the very least, you can have some tea. Please?” 

He sat up and took the cup from you and you let out a sigh of relief, making your way back to the kitchen now that your task was complete. 

It was a normal morning in 221B, with Sherlock being difficult and John leaning against the counter in the kitchen absent-mindedly sipping his own cup of tea. 

The two of you had been dating over a year now but that look he got on his face when he was thinking still made you smile. He visibly startled when you joined him against the counter after grabbing your own tea, “Sorry.” 

You rested your head on his shoulder, “You never have to apologize for being adorable John.” He chuckled and pulled you in closer with an arm that he quickly snaked around your waist. 

Swirling it slightly, you brought the cup to your face and then immediately brought it back down as the smell made your stomach turn. After setting the offending cup down, you pulled away from the counter and John, calling, “I’ll be right back,” over your shoulder as you made a speedy advance toward the bathroom. 

Once your stomach was done expelling its contents, you were cursing the fact that even tea seemed to make you sick from the floor of the bathroom when there was a firm knock on the door. 

“(F/n)? Is everything alright?” came John’s concerned voice from the other side before it opened ever so slightly and then swung open fully.

He frowned down at you for a moment before kneeling and pressing a warm hand against your forehead, “I knew you weren’t feeling well… you don’t have a fever. That’s good.”  

You exhaled slowly, “It’s probably just a stomach bug John, you don’t need to-“ 

“I’m allowed to worry about my girlfriend when she’s sick.” He interrupted, sliding his arms under you. He pulled you to him as he stood, and carried you to the living room to set you down in his chair. 

There was no point in trying to argue with him, he was already in full doctor mode, so you leaned back into it and huffed your annoyance as he bustled away.

Feeling Sherlock’s eyes on you, you grumbled, “What is it Sherly?”  

He spoke for the first time that morning, “You and John are… intimate.” 

  


Even with your eyes closed you knew he was wrinkling his nose at the word, “And?” 

It was quiet for a moment and then you felt hands on your knees, tilting your head down and opening your eyes, you found Sherlock squatting in front of you staring at you intensely. 

“What?” you demanded, curiosity peaked. Sherlock just tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow expectantly as he frowned, your eyes narrowed, “You’re wrong. That’s not possible.” 

“While I disagree, I hope you are right. For John’s sake.” He glared at the man as he came back in carrying his doctor’s kit.

“For my sake? What are you on about Sherlock?” John asked distractedly, making his way across the room.

“(F/n) is pregnant.” 

John dropped his things in shock, unsure of whether he should run from your brother, who was glaring daggers at him, or go to your side, “That’s not possible.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” You continued to stare at Sherlock intently, expecting answers.

“You’ve been sick every morning for three days, you’ve been leaving out the bacon or sausage when you make breakfast for us because you don’t like the smell, you were also bothered by the smell at the crime scene yesterday when you normally don’t even notice, and you’ve been extra moody lately. Also, you’ve missed your period twice but as you don’t keep track of it you failed to notice. So I’d say it’s more than possible. It’s fact.”

You reeled internally, spitting back, “Why are you keeping track of my time of the month Sherlock! That’s weird!”

“It was not exactly intentional. You get overly emotional and I couldn’t help but notice it was for the same week each month.”

John recovered enough to throw on his coat before racing out the door without a word.  You buried your face in your hands, feeling extremely sad all the sudden, and let out a soft sob. 

You felt Sherlock lift you so he could sit down and place you on his lap, “I’ll kill him and make it look like an accident,” he mumbled. 

You curled into yourself slightly in response and your older brother nuzzled into your hair and wrapped his arms around you protectively as you quietly cried into his shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

John returned to find not only you and Sherlock in the living room but Mycroft as well. You were curled up on the couch with your head in Mycroft’s lap, dozing as he ran his fingers soothingly through your hair, and Sherlock paced angrily in front of you both. 

When he saw John he stopped to growl, “Where have you been?” 

John ignored him, his eyes locked on you, and his heart broke when he noticed the tear streaks that still marked your cheeks. He realized then that he’d left without saying anything, a terrible mistake on his part, and that you had probably thought he didn’t want it or that he was mad or something equally horrible. 

Sherlock stepped in front of him, to block his view of you and loom over him menacingly. John stuttered, “I-I went to…” he trailed off worriedly, leaning to get a look at you as he held up the bag from the pharmacy, “get this.”

Sherlock’s eyes flicked between John and the bag a couple of times before he calmed slightly and snatched it from him as he spun.

Mycroft started to protest, “Leave her be. I’ve only just calmed her enough for her to sleep. It can wait.”

Ignoring him Sherlock dropped to his knees beside you and poked you gently before bluntly stating, “Key wake up. You need to pee on this stick.”

You bolted up with a gasp, choking on your own spit slightly, and fell into a fit of coughing. 

  


Mycroft scolded Sherlock, patting your back as he did so, “You could have been a little less crass.” 

“I only spoke the truth, blame it for being crass.”

You grabbed the bag and left your brothers to argue without even sparing a glance toward John, who was glued to his spot by the door.

“She’s angry…” John stated after you slammed the bathroom door.

Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh and then flung, “What ever gave you that idea John?” at him sarcastically.

The clock ticked loudly while they waited for you, Mycroft and Sherlock glaring angrily at John who still hadn’t moved, both out of fear and of not knowing what exactly he would do if he did.

After what seemed like an eternity, you flung open the door and hurled, what they soon found to be, the pregnancy test at John, hitting him in the chest before slamming the door again and locking it with finalizing click.

Mycroft sighed, running a hand over his face, “She’s crying again. I told you we should have just let her be for a bit.”

“That would have only been delaying the inevitable.” Sherlock mumbled, eyes on what you had thrown as John bent to carefully scoop it from the floor.

He stared at it in disbelief for a minute before announcing in a voice barely above a whisper, “It’s positive.”

No one said a word, while they had all pretty much known that would be the case this was much more final.

John made to move toward the bathroom but Sherlock stepped to block his path, glaring down at him angrily, allowing Mycroft to go knock on the door instead, “Kheiland please come out.”

No answer.

“My dear we have things to discuss. You aren’t alone in this. Please?”

Still no answer.

John pushed past Sherlock and gave Mycroft a little shove out of the way before laying his own soft knock on the abused door, “(sF/n) it’s me. Would you please-“

You opened the door, quickly grabbed the front of his jumper, and yanked him in with you before shutting the door again. 

He looked at you, unsure of what to say that wouldn’t just make it worse, so he settled with the obvious, “I’m sorry for leaving earlier.” You studied the tiling of the floor, tears still rolling down your cheeks, and said nothing. 

John just wanted to make it better somehow, continuing, “This isn’t necessarily a bad thing… I love you (F/n) and being a father will be fun. If you want to keep it that is… I mean I’d like you to keep it but I’ll go with whatever-“

“You want it? I mean you're not going to leave me or-“ 

He enveloped you in a warm hug, kissing the top of your head, “Of course I do. It’s my child. Our child. Equal bits of you and me all wrapped up in one wondrous little being. I love you more than anything (F/n) and I’ll love our baby just as much, besides I think your brothers would kill me and get away with it if I said any different.”

You chuckled through the tears, “Probably,” and then pulled back to press your lips against his. John reciprocated, one of his hands sliding to cradle your head as he returned the kiss fiercely.

When you surfaced for air, you were beaming and, nuzzling into his chest, you stated, “You are going to make a fantastic father Watson.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby Watson won't let you sleep... silly thing already tuckering out its mother.

You flopped on the couch, feeling a lot like a breaching whale, and exhaled upwards forcefully to remove the hair from your face. It had been a bit over three months since you had found out you were two months pregnant, putting you at nearly six months along. You had only started to show about a month ago but since then you’d ballooned up to a size that you compared to a small planet.

December had crept up on you without you even realizing, awaking one day to a smattering of snow on the buildings outside. It was snowing now as you sat, confined to the flat, because both Sherlock and John insisted you shouldn’t be running around, much less in the snow. 

You had accepted that there was no way you were going to worm your way out of that fate, instead resigning yourself to thoroughly cleaning the flat while they were gone, a task that had left you exhausted. You had just relaxed into the couch and were slipping into a much-needed nap when the little being inside you chose to make itself known. 

You sighed, “Seriously? First thing I’m going to do is sign you up for football.” 

This had been going on for the past few days. You hadn’t told anyone yet but the baby had started kicking and shortly after it started it seemed to fall into a sort of schedule… and that schedule was every time mom laid down to sleep or rest baby started a round of belly kickboxing. You groaned and tried to ignore it, throwing an arm over your eyes, when the door suddenly flew open. 

John and Sherlock were bickering as they came in and pulled off their snow-covered coats but stopped abruptly when they noticed you on the couch. 

“(F/N) is something wrong? Are you feeling well? Is it-“ You waved an arm to halt John’s mini-panic session, “I’m fine John. Just tired.”

Sherlock looked around, it had been a proper mess when they left-papers, books and dishes everywhere- and now not a single thing was out of place, “You cleaned.”

John let his focus wander from you to his surroundings and then sort of gaped before turning back to you to scold, “You’re supposed to be taking it easy, not taxing yourself by cleaning our mess.”

You didn’t respond, blocking out the rest of whatever lecture you were surely receiving in an attempt to nap again and again a little foot smacked you, causing you to let out a little growl.

John didn’t notice, continuing to pace and rant, but Sherlock did, coming to lift your legs and sit underneath them before letting them slide into his lap. You opened your eyes to look at him and found his blue-green eyes searching yours questioningly, one eyebrow raised. 

You let your eyes flick down to the little mountain that was your stomach and then back up to him, communicating with him wordlessly. He hesitantly placed one of his long elegant hands on it just in time to feel one of the more forceful kicks and then quickly pulled away, eyes wide. 

You closed your eyes again, letting out a long frustrated and tired sigh, and you felt Sherlock's hand go back to your stomach. 

“How long has it been doing that?” Sherlock asked quietly, not wanting to draw John’s attention. 

You put your arm over your eyes again, feeling a headache coming on, and in an equally quiet voice responded, “Since I laid down. It has been happening every time I try to rest since about a week ago.” 

You sat in silence again and you felt yourself starting to drift off, happily relaxing into the darkness that approached as the baby’s kicks slowed and softened. You were jarred out of it when, as if on cue, it’s little feet picked up their pace and determination, pounding on your insides like there was no tomorrow. 

You groaned loudly, entirely fed up with this cycle of events, causing John to stop and look at you, confused. Sherlock had been observing you the entire time and placed his hand on your stomach again, surprising you when he addressed it in a soft but firm voice, “Little Watson your mother is very tired and would appreciate it very much if you would cease your activity so that she may sleep.” 

The baby actually did as he asked, very abruptly stopping its bombardment of the inner wall of your belly, and you let out a sigh of relief, “I don’t know how that worked but thank you Sherly.”

John was staring at the two of you, still entirely confused, “What activity?” 

You exhaled slowly, “The reason I’ve been so tired is because every time I try to sleep your child decides that it’s time to practice karate. It seems it’s quite good at it too.” 

John grinned widely then, bouncing over to kneel beside you and place a hand on your stomach, “It’s kicking?” 

“Not anymore. Thanks to Sherlock… maybe I can finally get some sleep now.” 

John looked at you, noticing the indicators of fatigue in your face that he hadn’t before, but was still disappointed. 

You knew he was and felt bad enough to offer, “Little one you have my permission to continue your activities.” 

Sure enough, as soon as you said it the kicking started again. You tried to stifle a groan rather unsuccessfully as John beamed, laughing happily as the baby kicked at his hand. 

“You are so lucky I love you. That was the first time it’s left me alone in a week.” You grumbled and that caught his attention. 

“A week? You haven’t slept well in a week?” 

You nodded and he looked back at your stomach frowning before laying a hand on it, “Please stop baby. You’re running your mother ragged.” 

Nothing changed and you chuckled, “It’s already stopped listening to you, John. What are we going to do when it’s a teenager?” 

He frowned at your stomach again, displeased that it was causing you distress, and Sherlock placed his hand gently at its highest point, smirking slightly, “That’s quite enough Little Watson. Your father has had his fill.” 

The kicking stopped almost instantaneously again and he grinned proudly, “It looks as if your child likes me more than you John.” 

John let out an exasperated sigh and began arguing with him over whom the unborn child loved, and would love, more but you hardly heard any of it, drifting off into the first restful sleep you’d had in a long time.  



	4. Chapter 4

At nine months you were entirely fed up with being pregnant, you couldn’t get up on your own, you had actually lost weight since the baby refused to let you eat anything, and you had to pee like every five minutes. 

You sat in John’s chair cross-legged, with a cup of tea balanced on top of your round belly, in an entirely horrible mood. You couldn’t even get up from where you were because John and Sherlock had gone out on some case a couple of hours ago and likely wouldn’t be back for at least another hour, not to mention your phone was across the room. 

You briefly considered yelling to see if Mrs. Hudson would hear you when there was a familiar knock on the door. 

“Oh thank god.” You grumbled, before yelling, “Come in. It’s open.” The door swung open and Mycroft popped his head around it, you didn’t bother to try and look at him, at this angle, in your state, it was impossible. You just called, “You have the most impeccable timing. Get over here and help me up would you?” 

He chuckled and came to do as you asked, grabbing both of your hands to pull you out of the chair and into a warm hug. You returned it gratefully, “Thank you Mysie.” 

“How are you, my dear?” He asked, planting his usual kiss on top of your head.

“Well, other than having been stuck in that chair for two hours and being a nine-month pregnant whale, Fantastic.” You knew your brother didn’t appreciate your sarcasm but you were beyond caring, he simply frowned as you stretched your sore muscles, “John and Sherlock left you alone?” 

You shuffled toward the kitchen, “They have a case. Some murder. John said it would likely be another few days before anything happens so they went. Would you like some tea or something?” 

Mycroft followed you, “Thank you, but no. You shouldn’t be stressing yourself over me.” 

You shrugged, putting the kettle on for yourself. Miraculously, tea was one of the few things that didn’t make you sick. 

“Have you and John decided on a name?” Mycroft asked curiously, leaning against the counter.  

“Not really,” you said, pausing for a moment to think about that yourself, and he continued on the subject, “Will it be a Holmes or a Watson?” 

You chuckled, this had been an ongoing argument in 221B. John, of course, wanted it to be a Watson, Sherlock insisted it be a Holmes, and you remained as neutral as possible, “That is still to be determined. Sherlock insists that because it responds to him it should be a Holmes, reasoning that it is a sign of advanced intelligence. John, on the other hand, wants it to be a Watson as it has his blood and in hopes that it won’t develop the Holmes mentality.” 

Mycroft chuckled softly, “What do you want it to be?” 

“Honestly I don’t care. It makes no difference to me whether it carries our last name or John’s… maybe Holmes-Watson. What about you Mycroft? Do you have a preference?” 

“Obviously I would prefer it to be a Holmes, though I rather like the sound of Holmes-Watson.” 

You smiled, leaning lightly against your eldest brother’s side, “Homles-Watson. It seems rather fitting.” 

The door swung open just then and you could see John panic when he noticed you weren’t where he’d left you. You called to him a little bitterly, “In here love. A heroic knight came and rescued me from that prison of a chair you left me in.”  

John came to give you a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, “I’m so sorry, we got a little carried away. Thank you for coming to her aid, Mycroft.” 

“Mycroft had better not be in the kitchen” came a call from the other room, and you and your brother both rolled your eyes. 

“Go sit.” John demanded, ushering you out. 

“But-“ 

“Go. I’ll finish up the tea.”

You nodded gratefully and kissed him softly before going into the living room with Mycroft in tow. 

Sherlock glared at his brother, “What is he doing here?” 

“Can I not visit my pregnant little sister? Besides it seems I came at just the right time as you and your flatmate left her stuck in a chair.” Mycroft countered. He had been around much more often in the past months, helping you whatever way he could, and, while you appreciated your eldest brother’s presence, Sherlock did not.

Sherlock was already reaching for the nearby violin and you groaned, “Not the violin Sherly. Please.” 

It was too late. He had begun to pluck at his violin in the most annoying way possible and was likely seconds away from adding the bow to create a sound comparable to nails on a chalkboard. 

You exchanged a weary, entirely unamused look with Mycroft who looked back apologetically, before growling at your brother, “Sherlock. Stop.” 

He continued and even looked a bit amused that it was annoying you both to no end, so you repeated it louder, “Stop Sherlock.” 

Still nothing. What little patience you had evaporated and you yelled at the top of your lungs, “Sherlock I swear if you don’t quit it right now I will throw that thing out the window!” 

Still nothing. You moved to make good on your threat, causing him to lean back slightly to keep away from you, when you abruptly stopped, “Sherlock…” 

There was something about how you said his name, softly and with more urgency, that caused him to stop and look up at you. Your eyes were wide and a little panicked, “Sherlock I think my water just broke.” 

“What?” Mycroft said from behind you.  

“You heard me,” you snapped and Sherlock called for John, trying to keep his voice even. When he didn’t respond Sherlock called again louder, “John!” 

From the kitchen, John couldn’t hear him the first time, and the second time he assumed that Sherlock wanted something trivial and ignored him. 

By now both Sherlock and Mycroft were visibly panicking, Mycroft hovering around you not knowing if he should touch you or not and Sherlock frozen in his chair. Seeing them both respond this way sent you into a full-blown panic attack of your own, your breathing began to speed up and your head spun. 

Sherlock gave a final yell at the top of his lungs, “JOHN!” that caused the man to come bolting into the room, “What the bloody hell is going- (F/n)?” 

He was at your side faster than ever, “Calm down and tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Her water broke. What should we do John? John?” Sherlock supplied, obviously freaking out. 

John ignored him and Mycroft, who was nodding along with wide eyes, and cupped your face in his hands so you had to look at him and only him, “(F/n) I need you to take a couple of deep breaths and try to calm down. Ignore them. Everything is absolutely fine.” 

You nodded, trying to do as he asked and after a few minutes you succeeded, John let out a relieved sigh before tugging you towards the door, “Alright good. Come on. Let’s get to the hospital.” 

He scooped up the already packed hospital bag by the door, called over his shoulder to the Holmes brothers, “Once you two have calmed down you can join us. Not before then,” and shut the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

Upon reaching the hospital you were bustled off into a room with what seemed like a dizzying amount of nurses and machines, you were taking deep breaths trying to keep yourself calm when you realized you were alone. And by alone you meant that the one person who actually mattered wasn’t by your side- John.

You breathing picked up and the heart monitor that you’d been plugged into started to beep impossibly fast, causing the nurses to come to your side to try and calm you. You just kept repeating the same question, “Where’s John?”

John had been distracted by a nurse who’d shoved some paperwork in his hands, demanding he finish it in the waiting room before heading back to you. His leg jumped nervously as he quickly tried to fill out the blanks on the form, when a nurse emerged and called, “Is there a John out here?” 

He shot up, “That’s me. Is something wrong?” 

The nurse impatiently gestured for him to follow, “Your wife is panicking and none of us can seem to calm her down. It’s stressing the baby.”

He didn’t bother to correct her assumption that he was your husband, practically throwing himself through the door just as you hit the point of being on the verge of tears. You reached for him shakily and he enveloped you in a tight hug, “It’s alright. I’m here. Just breathe.”

You buried yourself into his shoulder, taking comfort in his familiar scent, and after a moment your heart rate dropped back to normal, the beeping slowing down considerably. A nurse pried him gently off you and reminded him he needed to finish the forms. 

He sighed and leaned in to kiss your forehead, “(F/n) I have to finish with these forms and then I will be back. I promise.“

You nodded and watched forlornly as he left the room.

He entered the waiting room to find the Holmes brothers arguing loudly with the woman at the check-in desk, Sherlock yelling, “It’s Holmes! With an H. Really? Could you be any more daft?”

“If you do not locate my sister within the next five minutes, I will personally see to it that you and your entire family are exiled from all of England for the rest of time.” Followed up Mycroft in that calm yet extremely threatening way he had.

John went to rescue the poor girl, “Would the two of you stop harassing the staff? (F/n) is just down the hall.”

They spun in sync to look at him and Sherlock demanded, “Why aren’t you with her?”

He held up his clipboard, “They are insisting I fill these out first. Go back and be with her. She needs you. I’ll be along as soon as I’ve finished.”

The brothers swooped off to find you and John felt relief wash over him, knowing that now you wouldn’t be alone. The feeling was short lived when a nurse pulled him from his paperwork again. Not even bothering to explain, she just grabbed his wrist and dragged him off to your room.

In the room, Mycroft was trying in vain to calm you as you sobbed, your heart rate dangerously high, and Sherlock didn’t seem to be able to stop talking. He was spouting facts about the dangers of childbirth and some other nonsense while waving his hands and pacing in his own form of complete and total panic mixed with fear. 

John’s military training kicked in as he moved to quickly neutralize the situation, he grabbed Sherlock by the front of his coat and shoved him out the door, shutting it behind him, and then turned his attention to you. Mycroft backed away as he strode over and in one swift motion, lifted you and placed you in his lap on the edge of the hospital bed.

You clung to him, arms around his neck and nose buried in his shoulder, and he rocked you soothingly, rubbing calming little circles into your back, “You’re going to be just fine. The baby is going to be just fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

“But-“

“But nothing. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

The tears stopped coming and you started taking slow deep breaths then, after a moment, you suddenly pulled away, “I think I’m alright now. Thank you, John.”

He pressed his forehead against yours. “I know you don’t like hospitals and that you’re scared but I promise it’s going to be alright. You just need to stay calm ok?” 

You nodded and John set you back on the bed, you wiped your eyes and stared at the bed sheets, embarrassed you’d allowed yourself to get so caught up in everything. 

John frowned, “I have to take care of one thing and then I’ll be right back.”

You grabbed his hand, not wanting him to go again, but he shook his head, “It will only take a minute. Look. Mycroft is right here. He’ll keep an eye on you while I’m gone.”

He looked up expectantly at the man and Mycroft, wrapping your hand in his, evenly added, “I’m right here Kheiland dear. I’m sure John will only be a minute.”

You hesitantly let go of John, giving him the opportunity to push through the doors and out into the hall to look for Sherlock. He found the consulting detective pacing a little ways away, mumbling to himself about god knows what, certainly nothing good. 

John roughly shoved him up against the wall, “Get a hold of yourself, you bloody idiot. You terrified your own sister so badly it brought her to tears. You are going to go back out the waiting room and stay there until you feel- no- until you know, with absolute certainty, that you can remain calm. Until then you can make yourself useful and finish filling out these forms.” 

John released him, shoved the clipboard he’d grabbed on his way out of the room into Sherlock’s chest, and then watched the tall man stride off before returning to your side.

The nurses quickly found that you could handle anything they threw at you with ease as long as John was by your side and none of them dared to remove again him for any reason. Things moved fairly smoothly after that and it wasn’t long before things got heated enough that you had to kick Mycroft out to keep Sherlock company in the waiting room.

You all but crushed John’s hand as you tossed your head back, screaming, and the doctor told you “Just one more push.” You slumped back into the bed, exhausted and sweating, and you felt John sandwich your hand between both of his, “Come on (F/n). You can do this. Just one more.”

You huffed determinedly and put whatever energy you had left into one final successful push, hearing the doctor announce, “It’s a girl,” before you collapsed into the pillows.

Everything seemed a blur for a moment and suddenly you were staring into a set of eyes that were eerily similar to your own. You brought your nose down to lightly touch it to your tiny daughter’s, smiling a tired but content smile, “Hello there little one, nice of you to finally join us out here in the world.”  

You felt a hand on your head and yawned as you tilted to look up at its owner. John looked unsure for the first time that day but you didn’t give him a chance to overthink, gently placing the small pink bundle into his arms.

The little child cooed slightly, grabbing the front of his jumper and pulling him down to her with a slight tug. He grinned, tears brimming up in his eyes, and let out a soft chuckle at how she was already tugging him around just like you did. She was a carbon copy of you in everything except her hair, which was a smooth blond like her father’s.

John didn’t seem to hear when the doctor asked for a name, so you sleepily responded, “Emily. Emily Rose Holmes-Watson.”

John startled slightly at the mention of his last name, looking up at you with confusion in his eyes, “What was that?”

You yawned, “Her name. Emily Rose Holmes-Watson.”

He grinned, looking between you and your daughter, “It’s perfect. Even with the hyphenation.”

You chuckled, mumbling, “Just don’t let Sherlock or Mycroft in here until I’ve had a chance to…”

John looked up to find you had drifted off to sleep mid-sentence and returned his attention to the little girl in his arms, “Well Emily, you’re just going to have to wait to meet your uncles until your mother’s had a proper rest. No matter, I’d rather keep you all to myself for just a bit longer anyway.”

The infant yawned and began to doze with her hand still firmly grasping the front of his jumper and John felt on top of the world.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the last installment... Hope you all enjoyed my semi mini-series.

Your little nap didn’t last long with your subconscious telling you there were still things to be done in the waking world. You yawned slightly and stretched your arms lazily over your head before turning to look for John and Emily.

You found him asleep in a nearby chair, sitting with one arm in the hospital bassinet so that the little girl could hold onto his finger. You smiled softly at how absolutely adorable this moment was as you tried to memorize every detail.

John’s eyes flickered open and he offered you a sleepy grin, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” You said yawning again, “How long was I out?”

He glanced at the clock on the wall, “A little over an hour. You should rest some more.”

You shook your head, “There’s something that needs to be done first.”

John instantly knew what you were talking about, “You want me to-“

You nodded, “I think they’ve waited long enough.”

He stood and Emily whimpered, causing him to freeze, you chuckled, “It’s alright John. Give her here so she won’t fuss.”

He lifted her as gently as possible and then placed her in your arms. You kissed her little forehead and then tilted back to receive a kiss from John, who was looking at the two of you worriedly, “We’ll be fine John. Now shoo.”

Giving you one last glance over his shoulder, he made his way out of the room and you tried to stifle yet another yawn as you waited for what seemed like an eternity to your exhaustion plagued mind.

You were trying not to doze off when the doors finally swung open, allowing the rest of your family entrance to the room. You called softly for John, “John dear please take her. I simply can’t stay awake any longer.”

You were slightly surprised when it wasn’t John that took her from you but Mycroft, who kissed you on the forehead and then gently scooped her up into his arms.  He didn’t say a word, as if afraid to disturb the peace, and John came to sit next to you on the bed, interlacing his fingers with yours.

You giggled softly as you watched your eldest brother cradle his niece with wonder filled eyes and a large smile, “So what do you think Mycroft? Worth the wait and all the trouble?”

“Definitely so little sister. Definitely so. She’s… well, she’s absolutely perfect.”  

You yawned and then frowned, “Where’s Sherlock?”

John rolled his eyes, got up to disappear behind the door momentarily, and came back with Sherlock in tow, dragging him by one arm. You watched his eyes flicker over the scene in the room and then reached for him when his eyes met yours.

He hesitantly came and sat on the bed next to you and you wrapped your hand around his reassuringly, “Hey Lock?”

His thumb stroked your hand softly as he looked over at you, “Yes Key?”

“Would you like to meet your niece?”

His eyes widened slightly and you giggled, waving for Mycroft to come over, which he did, giving Sherlock the little pink bundle a little reluctantly.

Sherlock looked at the little face staring up at him with curiosity and her little hands reached up towards him. After a moment he carefully shifted her to one arm so he could offer her a finger, which she took happily and hugged to her chest. 

He smiled softly before asking, “What did you name her?”

“Emily.”

He looked over at you, “Watson or Holmes?”

You rolled your eyes, your brother would worry about that right now, “Both. Emily Rose Holmes-Watson.”

Mycroft nodded in approval, “I like it.”

Sherlock had turned his attention back to the infant, who was now dozing with his finger pulled to her cheek, “Emily Rose Holmes-Watson… Something tells me you will be the best of both.”

You grinned and leaned forward to ruffle your brother’s hair before flopping back to give a large yawn.

John looked at you a little concerned, “You need to rest.”

You waved him off, “And miss my brothers getting along for once. Not a chance.”

Sherlock and Mycroft exchanged grins, chuckling at your astute observation, and then Emily started to cry.  
Sherlock gaped at her worriedly, thinking maybe he had done something wrong that caused this little unhappy outburst, and you giggled, drawing his attention.

You reached out your arms for him to give her to you, “You didn’t do anything Sherly. She’s probably just hungry.”

At that, Mycroft had gone a slight shade of pink and turned around with his face to the ceiling, clearing his throat uncomfortably. John kissed your temple and helped you with the hospital gown loosening it enough that you could push it aside easily and Emily could get what she wanted.

You settled her and then pushed some hair from your face before looking up to find Sherlock staring curiously. You rolled your eyes and then kicked him, “Stop watching you twat.”

He smirked slightly, looking away, and you prodded him roughly with your foot until he got up and joined Mycroft as John chuckled.

You looked down at Emily and shook your head, she already had the most interesting family and you just hoped it could be exactly what she needed. You felt John’s hand on your shoulder and covered it with your own, looking up to his reassuring smile.

You knew then that somehow everything would be just fine.

That and that life in 221B was about to get a lot more interesting.


End file.
